


The Question Game

by ectoviolet



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, and you just have to live with it, sometimes you just get trapped in a cave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12792039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectoviolet/pseuds/ectoviolet
Summary: Dewey and Webby find themselves trapped together, and have to come up with a way to pass the time while awaiting rescue.





	The Question Game

“If we move around too much, we could cause another tremor. So just talking is… probably best. It’s like truth or dare, but without the dares,” Webby explained. Her gaze darted around the rubble surrounding them. “We just take turns asking questions and you have to tell the truth when you answer.”

Dewey nodded. “Okay. You go first then, ask me a question.” 

Webby hummed under her breath. “Um, what’s your favourite subject at school?”

Dewey scoffed. “That’s kind of a lame question. Uh, I guess… history? Like, when we get to learn about famous battles and stuff.” His eyes lit up for a moment. “We once got to watch this really cool war movie in class, it was like, these American fighter pilots in World War One, and they were like, bombing the Nazis--”

“Nazis were World War Two,” Webby cut in. “How do you not know that if history is your favourite subject?” 

Dewey shrugged. “I said it’s my favourite, I didn’t say I’m good at it. Uh, my turn now.” He paused for a moment. “Do you believe in Bigfoot?” 

“Of course!” Webby rolled her eyes. “Sasquatches are totally real.” 

“Sasquatch _ es? _ Like, you think there are multiple Bigfoots?” 

“Duh. Different sasquatch sightings are like, decades apart, in totally different states. Do you  _ really  _ think it’s just one guy? That’s crazy.” She sighed. “Okay, uh… who’s your favourite actor?” 

“Mickey Mouse,” Dewey replied without hesitation. “Oh, or Steve Martin.” 

Webby nodded. “I… don’t know who that is.” 

Dewey raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know Steve Martin?” 

“Or the other guy.” 

“You don’t know  _ Mickey Mouse?!”  _

Webby cringed. “I’ve only seen like, three movies… I don’t even know why I asked you that question.” 

“When we get home, we’re going to watch every DVD I own.” Dewey shifted uncomfortably, rubble jutting into his back. “Um-- _ ow _ \--okay…” He grinned devilishly. “Which triplet is your favourite?” 

“I like you all equally.” 

Dewey groaned. “Come on, you have to tell the truth, that’s the game! I won’t tell anyone if it’s me!” 

Webby shoved at his shoulder. “I don’t have a favourite! You’re  _ all  _ my best friends. Honestly! You don’t have a favourite brother, do you?” 

“Well, no, but--”

“It’s the same thing.” Webby stuck out her tongue. “You totally wasted that question.” 

“You’re no fun,” Dewey grumbled. “Okay, fine, your turn. Ask me something.”

“I’m super fun.  _ And _ I can think of better questions than you.” She combed her fingers through her hair, attempting to brush out dust and pebbles. “What’s your favourite room in the mansion?” 

“I wanna say my room, because having my own room is awesome, but…” Dewey shrugged. “Definitely the TV room. It’s like, the size of the boat. The TV is bigger than I literally ever knew TVs could be… Oh! I just thought of a really good one, okay, okay. Who would you rather fight: Uncle Scrooge, Uncle Donald, Launchpad, or your grandma?” 

“What?” Webby snorted. “Okay, um, am I myself in this situation, or am I like, a bad guy?” 

“Why does that matter?” 

“Granny wouldn’t want to fight me. She’d let me win.” 

“Okay, you’re a bad guy, then.” 

Webby stared into the darkness for a few moments. “...Launchpad.” 

Dewey spluttered. “Launchpad? But he’s so buff!” 

“He’s not formally trained,” Webby explained. “I have three black belts.” 

“Three?! In what?”

“Judo, kendo, and taekwondo.” 

“I don’t even know what kendo is,” Dewey muttered. “That is so intense.” 

“It’s not that intense,” she shrugged. “It’s just sword fighting.” 

“ _ Sword fighting?!”  _

“The swords aren’t real! ...At least, not how most people do it,” she added under her breath. 

“You are like,  _ scary  _ awesome,” Dewey laughed. 

“That gives me a good idea,” Webby said excitedly. “What’s the scariest thing that’s ever happened to you?” 

Dewey tilted his head back, closed his eyes. “Mm…” he paused. “There was this time last winter...” 

“What happened?” 

“Louie got really sick.” Dewey shrugged. “The whole time I had, like… this really bad feeling. Like… twintuition, but with triplets?” 

“Oh.” Webby fiddled with her sweater vest. 

“It got really bad. Uncle Donald came and woke up me and Huey in the middle of the night and said we had to go to the hospital. He looked... really scared.” Dewey shifted, looked away. “The doctors gave Lou like, a bunch of antibiotics and he was fine a week later but… That’s probably the most scared I’ve ever been.” 

“I’ll be honest, I was expecting a more fun answer,” Webby said with an awkward laugh. 

Dewey rubbed at his eyes. “Well, the game is to tell the truth.” He heaved a sigh. “Do you think the others are gonna find us anytime soon?” 

“Is that your question?” 

“I dunno.” 

“They’re coming,” Webby said firmly. “Ask me something else.” 

“Do you like Lena more than you like us?” 

“No!” Webby fidgeted. “I don’t know. Not  _ more… _ ” she sucked in a breath. “It’s just… different with her.” 

Dewey turned. “Different how?” 

“It’s my turn,” Webby said, in lieu of an answer. “Which triplet is the oldest?” 

“We’re all the same age,” Dewey answered automatically. 

“So it’s not you,” Webby said with a smirk. “Come on, you have to answer honestly!” 

Dewey sighed. “Huey is the oldest. By like, four and a half seconds.” 

“ _ Like  _ four and a half seconds, or  _ exactly  _ four and a half?” 

Dewey groaned. “Four and a half exactly. But I’m a whole minute older than Louie!”  

“I definitely could have guessed that you’re the middle child,” Webby snorted. 

“Hey, rude!” Dewey shifted. “You’re an only child, you can’t judge. It’s my turn again. What’s different with Lena?” 

“I don’t know.” Webby faltered. “She’s just--I just… I don’t know. It’s a lot of things. I guess it’s different because she’s a girl?”

“So... why can’t you be that close with boys?” 

“I’ve been wondering that, too.” Webby swallowed. “My turn.” 

If Dewey noticed her tone, he didn’t let it show. “Hit me with your best shot.” 

Webby felt something crawl over her knuckles. She shook off her hand and brushed it on her shirt. “Would you eat a bug if someone paid you?” 

“What kind of bug, and how much?”

“Uh… a centipede. And a hundred dollars.” 

“Is it alive?” 

“Yeah, definitely it’d have to be alive.” 

Dewey mock-gagged. “For a hundred dollars…?” He sat in silence for a few moments. “Honestly, probably.” 

“That is so disgusting,” Webby laughed. 

“A hundred dollars is like, four hundred gumballs,” Dewey reasoned. “That’s a hundred for me, a hundred for you, and a hundred each for Huey and Louie.” 

“Aw, you’d share your centipede gumballs?” 

“I am a very charitable person, I’ll have you know.” 

Webby broke into laughter. “Sorry, sorry, I just imagined actual centipede gumballs.”

Dewey snorted. “Like, gumballs made for centipedes, or gumballs made out of centipedes?”

It would be safe to say that they were going a little frantic. The humour of it all was almost enough to forget they were trapped in a collapsed mining tunnel.

Almost. 

///

The plane ride home was quiet; the whole family was exhausted from the day’s ordeal. Webby sat by the window, feeling extremely grimy and trying to discern if she really did have rocks down the back of her shirt. She wanted nothing more than a shower.

Dewey sat down next to her. He looked about as rough as Webby felt, but in the darkness of the mine she hadn’t noticed. He stared at her for a few moments, then spoke in a low voice: “All that stuff back there… that’s between us, right?” 

Webby glanced around the plane’s cabin, at the rest of the Duck family. No one seemed to be listening. “Like a secret?” 

Dewey nodded. “I won’t tell the guys what you said. Or Lena. And I… I dunno. No one needs to know what I said, either.” He raised one hand and extended his pinky. “Deal?” 

Webby stared at his hand.

“It’s…. It’s a pinky promise.” Dewey reached for her hand. Hooked his little finger around hers. “Now, we promise not to tell anyone. And if you break a pinky promise, you die.” 

“...Is that true?” 

Dewey shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve never broken one.” 

Webby snorted. “Okay. I promise.” 

“Good.” Dewey unhooked his finger and lowered his hand. “Now we’re bound by a death pact.” 

Webby giggled, rubbed at her face with her hands. “I’m so tired,” she gasped through her laughter.

Dewey laughed helplessly at his friend’s hysteria. “Me too.”

They were a little crazy, a little (a lot) dirty, a little worse for wear, but they were safe. And they were going home.


End file.
